


Not Fade Away

by grey2510



Series: Light's Grace!verse [14]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ben Braeden is Dean Winchester's Son, Bisexuality, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Fallen Angel Castiel, Family, Family Issues, Gen, M/M, POV Alternating, POV Ben Braeden, POV Castiel, POV Claire Novak, POV Dean Winchester, POV Original Character, POV Sam Winchester, PTSD (mentioned), Past Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester, Recovered Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 14:35:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3814132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey2510/pseuds/grey2510
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything is going well with the Team Free Will family until Dean gets a phone call from Jody Mills saying that Ben Braeden has shown up in Sioux Falls and is looking for him.</p><p>Canon-divergent after 10x14 and follows the events of the previous parts of the Light's Grace!verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Vacation, Winchester-Style

**Author's Note:**

> The first time I watched 6x21 “Let It Bleed”, when Dean asks Castiel to wipe Ben and Lisa’s memories, I was immediately reminded of the season 4 finale of Angel (4x22 “Home”) and the deal Angel makes to give Connor a new life. So, this fic is inspired by Connor’s arc in Season 5, partly how Connor regains his memories in 5x18, but especially Angel and Connor’s conversation at the café in 5x22 “Not Fade Away” (which is where the title is from, as an homage of sorts). 
> 
> If you’re not familiar with Angel, no worries—this fic doesn’t rely on any knowledge of that show, just Supernatural and the previous installments of the Light’s Grace!verse. That being said, Buffy and Angel are awesome shows and you should go on a Netflix binge and watch them. Just sayin’.
> 
>  
> 
> **LG!V TIMELINE: December 2015**  
> 

“You know, Dean,” Cas murmurs, his eyes turning away from the cabin’s TV and studying a purple bruise on his forearm that is quickly turning a bluish-greenish yellow, “I haven’t been human for that long, but I don’t think that ‘vacations’ usually involve eradicating a poltergeist.”

Dean snorts and looks down at Cas, who is using his thigh as a pillow. “You know you can only play the ‘new human card’ for so long, right? And you’ve known us long enough to know that we don’t do anything normal. Besides, we didn’t hunt today. And, snowmobiling, eh? C’mon, you gotta admit that was awesome.”

The corners of Cas’ eyes crinkle. “Yes, that was fun.” He pauses, and Dean watches Cas’ mouth twist into a sly grin. “I still think Claire beat you in the race back…”

“Fuck you, it was a tie!” Dean grins, then pretends to push Cas off the couch. Cas sits up, dodging most of the push, and Dean makes to pull his angel in for a kiss, wrapping a fist in Cas’ shirt.

“Get a room, guys!” Claire calls as she and Sam come in. Still balancing pizza boxes and bags of soda, chips, and beer, they quickly stamp snow off their boots before toeing them off.

“We _had_ a room. This, this is a room,” Dean argues with wide gestures around the cabin’s living space. “Not my fault you and Sam came back so quick.”

“And you wondered why I wanted my own apartment…” Sam deadpans, putting the pizza on the small kitchen table. “I don’t know how you put up with it, Claire.”

“Sarcasm, obnoxious interruptions, denial, and a social life outside the bunker,” Claire replies promptly.

“Yeah, yeah, you just like the free rent and that I cook for you,” Dean scoffs as he hauls himself up from the couch, offering a hand to Cas, who takes it.

“We don’t pay rent either, Dean,” Cas reminds him. “Although, she’s right…the cooking is pretty much the only reason to stay…”

“Shut up,” Dean retorts wittily, but he presses a quick kiss on Cas’ lips before heading to the table, Cas in tow. Sam has grabbed a stack of paper plates—this is _vacation_ : they sure as shit ain’t doing dishes—and Dean and Cas each grab a pizza and set them out on the counter where there’s more room. Dean turns back to the table to see Claire pop the cap off of a beer bottle and take a swig.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Drinking a beer, what’s it look like?” she challenges.

“Last I checked you were eighteen.”

Claire rolls her eyes. “Right. Because you never had even a sip of alcohol until you were twenty-one and you’ve never broken a rule—or law—in your life.”

Dean grinds his teeth. She’s not wrong—hell, he’s pretty sure his first beer was before he hit double digits, and he and alcohol have always had a close, personal (destructive) relationship. But fuck knows he’s no role model; definitely a case of “do as I say, not as I do”. He says as much: “Just because I did doesn’t mean you should. Cas?”

Cas looks up guiltily from his pizza. “Human laws regarding alcohol consumption are arbitrary at best and have more to do with sociocultural norms than any scientific—”

“Never mind, Cas. Thanks for the backup.” Dean looks to his brother who is pointedly staying out of the conversation.

“Dude, so not my issue,” Sam says before Dean can even ask.

Claire is grinning triumphantly and she even has the nerve to toast Dean with the bottle before taking another sip. Dean hates admitting defeat, especially to Claire, but he has absolutely no desire to turn was has been a pretty awesome week—minus getting thrown down a short flight of stairs by that poltergeist in the town’s historical society headquarters—into an argument. The case had been the pretext for the little family vacation, or the vacation had been the pretext for taking the case; at this point, it’s a chicken-and-egg situation in Dean’s mind. In any case, if Dean is going to dig his heels in about something involving Claire, he’s not sure a beer at dinner is really high on the list.

“Fine,” he grumbles. “One beer. That’s it.”

Claire smirks. “It’s cute how you say that like this is the first beer I’ve ever had…”

Cas and Sam are still quietly eating their pizza, although Sam is looking carefully between Claire and Dean. Dean shoots Claire a sharp look: _Just take the win and don’t fucking push your luck._ Claire seems sufficiently cowed at that, and she takes another slice of pizza without another word.

Thankfully, dinner gets more lively after a couple minutes; Dean deliberately brings up the snowmobile race with Claire, challenging her good-naturedly to another round tomorrow, and the tension disappears between them. The banter and taunts between the four of them fly after that, and once dinner is done, they settle into another relaxing night in the cabin.

Sam eventually retreats to his room, which is really just the loft with a pull-out couch above the kitchen, and Claire plunks herself down on the couch and starts flipping channels. She eventually settles on some reality TV show about…actually, Dean has no clue what it’s about, nor does he care…and Cas joins her because for some reason the ex-angel and Claire both have a thing for crappy TV shows like that. Dean smiles at the sight of them, although his eyes are fighting desperately to roll, and he heads into the main bedroom.

He digs a book— _The Waste Lands_ by Stephen King—out of his duffel, tosses it onto the bed, then changes into sweats and a soft Henley. _Who woulda thunk it? Dean Winchester, choosing a book over TV… Alert the papers…the monkey’s gonna read._ Privately, he’s glad Cas can no longer hear or sense his thoughts; he’s never really been sure just how much the angelified version of Cas could pick up on, but he’s fairly confident that Cas would have given him a concerned look and tried to reassure him that Dean is smarter than he thinks and he shouldn’t sell himself short with thoughts like that. Dean’s gotten better about keeping those thoughts at bay and being more accepting of Cas’ squirm-inducing, but earnest, assessments of Dean’s character, but they still creep up now and then.

Dean settles into bed and quickly gets lost in the book’s world. It’s the third in a series Charlie recommended to him, and he has to admit, it’s pretty damn good. Charlie had decided, after a movie marathon weekend during which Dean had convinced them all to watch Eastwood’s _Dollars_ trilogy, that if Dean loved Westerns and epics and dealt with magic on a daily basis, he’d really like _The Dark Tower_ series. He’d balked at first when she’d shown up the next time and dropped seven largish books in his lap, claiming he wasn’t a nerd like Sammy and that he had no time to read. Charlie had just swatted him upside the head and told him not to text her again until he’d at least gotten through the first book. He’d tried testing her on that threat and she had refused to talk to him until he could answer her password-like trivia questions. But dammit, she’d been right (“Of course I am”, she’d said); now he was hooked. 

“What part are you at?” Cas asks about an hour later, and Dean realizes he can no longer hear the TV in the next room. Dean looks up to see Cas changing into a pair of newish sweatpants, the pair Dean had bought for him so Cas would stop stealing his own. Not that he really minds sharing clothes with Cas (and, besides the practicalities of making laundry and packing easier since other than for suits and some jeans they are more or less the same size, Dean thinks there is something really hot about seeing Cas in his clothes), but the original pair of pants in question is Dean’s favorite, and sure he loves the guy, but Dean had to draw the line somewhere. Apparently, that line was at taking a man’s favorite sweatpants.

“Just got to the city of Lud. And _don’t_ tell me what happens,” Dean replies as Cas climbs in beside him. Cas grunts dismissively; after the fiasco of Cas giving away the Red Wedding when they were watching _Game of Thrones_ because Metatron had zapped the books into his brain, Dean had had to sit Cas down and have a very serious discussion about spoilers.  “Don’t you ever find it weird that you went from being totally culturally clueless to having an epic info download but you never actually read or watched any of it?”

Cas chuckles as he leans back against the headboard. “Dean, of all the things I have seen and experienced since the dawn of time—never mind all that has happened since I raised you from Hell—Metatron’s ‘download’ hardly ranks in the list of weird.”

“Well, when you put it like that…”

“I do understand what you mean, though,” Cas adds thoughtfully. “I’ve enjoyed reading and watching new things; the process of discovery is more rewarding—and isn’t tainted by the thought of Metatron, so that helps. I also find I connect more with the characters and story when I experience them for myself, even if I know what will happen already.”

"So spoilers aren't a big deal for you?"

"I didn't really have much choice in the matter. But, I think my favorite is watching films and shows with others. It helps me understand why they are your favorites. It's like experiencing the world through someone else's eyes."

Dean gives Cas a small smile, then resettles into the bed so he is leaning against Cas’ chest, who wraps an arm around Dean’s shoulder. For what must be the millionth time, Dean is thankful it’s just him and Cas because there’s no way Dean fucking Winchester would ever admit to anyone that sometimes he likes being the one who’s held and that fucking _cuddling_ isn’t all that bad (and he may or may not have threatened Cas with pain and/or death to never ever ever speak of this to anyone, especially not Sam). For a few moments, they lie there quietly, but Dean eventually breaks the silence.

“Hey, Cas? How did I end up the bad cop with Claire?”

“Do you mean about the beer?”

“Yeah, but not just that—this isn’t the first time something like this has happened. Remember the kegger her friends were planning last summer? Or, hell, Halloween? Or that sketchy older guy she wanted to go out with? Liam or whatever his name was? I mean, who am I to tell her not to do stupid crap? I’m not her dad, not really, and she wasn’t wrong when she pointed out that my past isn’t exactly spotless.”

“I think that’s exactly why you react so strongly. Think of you and Sam: you never would have let him drop out of high school, for instance, if he had been so inclined.”

“I guess.” Dean readjusts to take some of the pressure off of Cas’ arm, suspecting that the limb is probably going to fall asleep soon. One corner of Dean’s mouth rises in a half-grin. “I dunno, I think I figured you’d be the strict one, Mr. Righteous and Smiteful Former Angel of the Lord and all that.”        

“I rebelled against my family, participated in a civil war, opened Purgatory, attempted to play God, and eventually changed species. Somehow I believe you have a better 'track record' with rules and authority than I.”

“Thanks for setting the bar so low for me,” Dean jokes, trying to keep the conversation light; while Cas has been better in the last year or so, any one of the things he listed are usually pretty major triggers, and they could both play the 'I fucked up worse than you' game until they both sank into deep pits of despair. _Team Free Will…quite the dream team. A psychologist would have a fucking field day with any one of us, Sam and Claire included._ “I know I’ve said it before, but I just always worry I’m going to turn into my dad and drive her away by ordering her around or letting the job come anywhere near her.”

“She’s eighteen and no stranger to being on her own. If she wanted to leave, she would have. Claire pushes back at you because she can, because she knows that no matter what she does, you still want what’s best for her and you won’t give up on her. And because you’re far more alike than either of you would ever admit.”

Dean lets out a small laugh. “Sucks for you: gotta put up with two of us.”

“Hmm, yes. I consider it penance for my many sins,” Cas replies in a tone of exaggerated seriousness. “It’s true, though: you and Claire are closer than I am with her.”

“What’re you talking about? You’re the one she first came looking for at the bunker. You’re the one she’s watching reality TV marathons with, not the one she argues with.” Dean lifts his head and turns it up towards Cas’ face; his angel’s blue eyes are heavy.

“I’ll always be the one who took her father away,” Cas replies simply, but the words have so many layers beneath the surface.

Dean pushes himself up, then cups a hand around Cas’ jaw. “That’s not all you are, man, trust me. Did you know it was Claire’s idea to get you the new IDs for your birthday? And that had nothing to do with Jimmy; she wanted _you_ to have that. Hell, she’s the one who insisted you have a birthday in the first place. And you’re the one she clung to after that whole Rowena-Crowley shit show. And you’re…actually, hold on…”

Dean climbs out of bed, instantly missing its warmth. He roots around in the bottom of his duffel bag, finally pulling out a small maroon plastic bag, wrapped up and taped closed. Dean has gone over thirty years without using actual wrapping paper on a gift, and he doesn’t really see the point in starting now. Besides, Cas doesn’t care.

“I, uh…I was going to give this to you for Christmas, but decided it was more of a just between you ‘n me thing…even though Claire helped me come up with it.” He thrusts the gift awkwardly at Cas, who takes it with a puzzled expression. Cas carefully peels off the tape and unwraps the bag. Into his hand, a black cord with a silver pendant falls out. Cas untangles it and reveals that the pendant is in the shape of a car key.

“It’s not a real key—it’s silver, not steel—but it’s still a copy of Baby’s key. It’s just to wear. Claire said it was symbolic, or something,” Dean mumbles, completely uncomfortable.

Cas studies the key, then slips the cord over his head, smile blooming on his face. Dean feels a measure of relief; he’s not sure why, but he’d been convinced in those moments when Cas was opening the gift that the former angel would think it was stupid. “Thank you, Dean,” his angel breathes. Without another word, Cas gets up and goes to his own duffel, producing a small box and handing it to Dean.

“Cas?”

“Just open it,” Cas says with a laugh. Dean does, and inside is also a necklace, also on a black cord, but this one in the shape of a silver and black feather. Dean's heart pounds in his chest at the sight, momentarily feeling guilty that he is the reason Cas no longer has wings, but the thousand reassurances Cas has shared ever since quiet those thoughts. Cas meets his eyes when Dean raises them again, explaining, “Claire also helped with that, and I, too, decided not to wait until Christmas.”

“We got played,” Dean grins, slipping the necklace over this head. He holds up the pendant, admiring it, then tucks it inside his collar where it rests comfortably against his skin. “Thanks, Cas.”

Cas pulls Dean into a kiss, and the two fall back into the bed. And for the second time ever, Dean tells Cas—in real words, not Dean-speak—“I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not going to lie, part of the reason I have Dean reading "The Dark Tower" series is because I'm toying with doing a cross-over fic (and I even have a few ideas that could make it completely in-canon...or I might try and work it into this series) because seriously, there are SO many parallels and ways SPN and DT could work together.
> 
> UPDATE 4/29/15:  
> I FEEL LIKE A GENIUS!
> 
> Scene from 10x20: Claire asks Dean for a beer, he gives her a "hell no" look, then she gives him shit being all like "like you never had a beer before 21" (I don't have the exact quote -- I'm writing this during a commercial as the episode airs).
> 
> HMMMM THIS SOUNDS FAMILIAR.


	2. Bobby Singer's Old Place

When Craig Melbourne bought the salvage yard, he of course renamed it “Melbourne Salvage” to make it his own, but the new sign and the updated entry in the phonebook (not that anyone ever uses phonebooks these days) apparently don’t mean squat to the people of Sioux Falls. The property will always locally be known as “Bobby Singer’s Old Place”.

Craig doesn’t really mind all that much, not since The Week in Sioux Falls about five years ago, The Week when Craig’s Aunt Jillian came home…from the cemetery. Since then, the residents of Sioux Falls have become more accustomed and aware of the weird, though no one likes to talk about it. There were rumors that Bobby Singer and those two guys—the Winchesters, Craig learned later—had had some part in saving everyone from The Week. And three years later, long after Bobby had died and Craig had bought the property, he got a visit from the Sheriff that confirmed a lot of the rumors about crazy ol’ Bobby Singer…who apparently wasn’t as crazy as everyone thought.

He had just waved goodbye to the installation crew for the sign when the police cruiser had rolled up the long drive and Sheriff Mills said they needed to talk. Jody Mills was a good cop, and she and Craig had known each other for a long time: he had been just two years ahead of her in school and their respective “friends of friends” groups had intersected. So of course, when the Sheriff said she wanted to chat, Craig welcomed her in and slid a glass of iced tea over without a second thought.

Over the course of an hour or so, Mills told Craig quite a bit about Bobby and the Winchesters and more about The Week. She gave him hints of many other stories that Craig isn’t sorry he doesn’t know all the details of. She told him to be careful digging up around the salvage yard because there might be some…odd…creatures buried around. And, most importantly, she told him that if anyone ever came around or called looking for Bobby or the Winchesters, to call her up as soon as possible.

After having watched his Uncle Kirk have to kill Aunt Jillian and burn her on a mass pyre, it hadn’t taken long for Craig to agree to whatever Sheriff Mills told him to do. For about a year or so, he’d gotten a few phone calls for Bobby, and twice he’d had people come right to the house. Each of the phone calls had ended abruptly, once Craig said the words “I’m sorry, Bobby is dead.” The first time someone came to the door, Craig was pretty sure the woman would have punched Craig in the face and beaten him until she was sure he wasn’t lying about Bobby’s death, but luckily, the man she was with had seemed far more reasonable and had pulled her away. The second time, Craig was grabbed walking between the garage in the house. One man doused him in water (he later learned it was holy water), splashed him with some sort of cleaning product, and nicked his forearm with a silver knife, all while another man held him. Oddly, even though this whole ordeal, Craig had felt more afraid _for_ them than _of_ them. They were frightened, stressed, and looking for help, but Craig had none to give. He’d called the Sheriff, but the men took off before Craig could even tell them he’d called someone who might be able to help.

It’d been quite some time since anyone had come or called looking for Bobby; Craig figured word had finally spread in the hunting community. So, when a tallish teenager pulls up in a forty-year-old red pickup, Craig just assumes he’s come looking for car parts. Instead, the kid jumps out of the truck, then stares blankly at the remodeled house and the “Melbourne Salvage” sign like he’s witnessing the wreckage from a natural disaster.

“Can I help you?” Craig asks, wiping his hands on a rag as he approaches the kid and offers a hand. “Craig Melbourne.”

The kid shakes his hand absently, his eyes still roving around the property.

“The guy who used to own this place…Bobby?...is he still here?”

Craig is taken aback, then his gut clenches. He does _not_ want to break bad news like this to a kid. “I’m sorry, Bobby Singer died a few years ago.”

“Shit,” the boy spits out, scratching the back of his head.

“I’m sorry,” Craig repeats. “Are you family or a friend?”

The boy laughs bitterly. “Neither, I only met him once. He was just my last fucking lead on finding someone else. Dean Winchester. You ever know him?”

Craig shakes his head. “Never met him personally, but I’ve heard the name. I might know someone who knows him, though.” Craig is relieved to see the boy’s face brighten with guarded hope. “C’mon inside. No sense waiting out here in the cold. You got a name?”

“Oh yeah, sorry. Ben. Ben Braeden.”


	3. The Phone Call

Outside the diner the next morning, Cas and Sam are doing their usual overly-polite song-and-dance about who gets the passenger seat of the Impala—“no, you take it”, “no, you should”; Cas usually wins with sheer logic: while he appreciates Sam’s recognition of Cas’ new-found “right” to the seat if Dean is driving, the fact of the matter is that Sam’s legs barely fit in the backseat without some fairly uncomfortable contortions. Besides, the passenger seat has always been Sam’s place, and Cas has no problem defaulting to the brotherly-bond when they all travel together; it just seems right. Before Sam can counter, Cas simply climbs into the backseat next to Claire, who is completely absorbed with the wonders of the Internet and the unlimited data plan Charlie hooked up for her.

Cas rubs his hands together in his gloves and looks outside the driver’s side window, wondering why Dean hasn’t gotten in and started the car; being cold is not one of the human experiences Cas particularly enjoys and so he is anxious for the Impala’s heaters. Instead of the blast of hot air from the vents, though, Cas is treated to a rush of cold air as Dean stands with the driver’s door open, his phone up to one ear.

“Sheriff Mills!” Dean answers happily, and Cas smiles at the thought of Jody, whom he has now had the pleasure of meeting a few times. She is a good woman, and is another welcome addition to their strange little family. He notices Sam quirk up an eyebrow at Dean, and Cas is sure he is wondering why Jody has called Dean instead of Sam; the younger Winchester and the sheriff have always been closer than she and Dean. In truth, one of the reasons Cas thinks so highly of Jody Mills is her almost mothering support and care for Sam (and Dean, to a lesser extent), something he knows the younger hunter has always needed, even if he doesn’t realize it. Cas imagines Jody and Ellen Harvelle would have gotten along quite well.

The curiosity on Sam’s face quickly turns to concern, and Cas turns his attention back to Dean. His partner’s face has gone pale, his eyes are distant, and his jaw is clenched. Dean has moved away from the car so they can no longer hear the phone conversation, but it’s clear whatever it is, it’s bad news. Claire picks up on the quiet and tension in the car and looks up from her phone, shooting Cas a questioning look. Cas shakes his head and shrugs a shoulder in an “I don’t know” gesture.

Dean hangs up the phone, and rubs a hand over his face, pausing with his eyes covered. He paces a few steps, obviously trying compose himself. Cas gets out of the car and approaches Dean cautiously, knowing if the hunter is upset, he is likely to react in anger and push Cas away.

“Dean? What’s wrong? Is Sheriff Mills ok?”

Dean looks at Cas, and the pain in his eyes breaks Cas’ heart. “Yeah, yeah,” Dean rasps, his voice wrecked with emotion. “Jody’s fine. It’s…it’s Ben, Cas. He’s in Sioux Falls, and he’s looking for me.”

A lead weight settles in Cas’ stomach. “Dean…” he begins, but Dean’s hurt erupts into anger and frustration.

“What the fuck, Cas? _He wasn’t supposed to remember me!_ Not ever! What the hell happened?!”

Cas’ guilt at the part he played in changing Ben and Lisa’s memories mixes uncomfortably with the lead weight in his stomach, and the accusing glare from Dean bores into his heart. “I don’t know,” he answers quietly.

“What do you mean you don’t know! You did it!” Dean shouts.

Even though he knows Dean isn’t truly angry at Cas (much of the hunter's anger is him projecting), being yelled at gets Cas’ back up and he counters the accusations firmly. “I am—was—just a seraph, Dean. I had to change _a year_ and then some’s worth of memories for two people. Even _Death_ couldn’t keep Sam from forgetting his time in the Cage forever, if you recall. Something must have triggered Ben’s memories.” Cas almost throws it back in Dean’s face that it wasn’t Cas’ decision in the first place, that it was Dean who asked for the mind-wipe and Dean is therefore ultimately responsible for the consequences, but the hunter has deflated; he looks hollowed out and broken.

“I’m dropping you all back at the cabin. I’m going to Sioux Falls. You can take Sammy’s truck back to Lebanon,” Dean growls as he stalks back to the car.

“Dean!” Cas half-yells. The hunter doesn’t respond, so Cas jogs the two steps to catch up with him, grabs Dean’s forearm, and yanks him back around forcefully. Dean’s green eyes shoot daggers at Cas, but Cas calmly returns the glare. “You are not going to Sioux Falls alone. I’m coming with you.”

“No, Cas. You’re not. This is my fucking mess. It has nothing to do with you.”

“Dean, you made this my mess, too, when you asked me to erase their memories of you. But even if I had nothing to do with it, _you_ are my concern and my partner; we do this together. Or does this mean nothing?” Cas argues, pulling the key necklace out from under his jacket and shirt.

It’s a low blow, but it’s effective. Dean visibly crumbles, but only lets out a gruff, “Fine,” and climbs into the car, slamming the door far harder than necessary.

“Dean, what’s going on?” Sam immediately asks. Dean, of course, doesn’t respond and just tightens his grip on the wheel as he steers the Impala back to the cabin.

“It’s Ben,” Cas answers quietly for Dean, and Sam’s eyes grow wide. Cas gives him a pleading look: _Please don’t ask any questions._ Thankfully, Sam understands; he knows his brother well enough to know when not to say anything for now, but Cas also tries to convey to the younger Winchester that he will fill him in once they are back to the cabin.

“Who’s Ben?” Claire mouths to Cas. Again, Cas just shakes his head in response: _Later._

Cas tries to catch Dean’s eye in the rearview mirror, but the hunter never looks up, his eyes locked on the slushy roads. Cas wonders how long until the levy truly breaks.


	4. Road Trip

Once they are back in the cabin, Claire tries to stay out of Dean, Cas, and Sam’s way. Dean storms around the place, gathering all of his things and shoving them angrily into his bag, all the while ignoring Sam’s protests or shutting them down. Cas simply packs his things, then sits in the Impala waiting for Dean as though he is worried—and probably rightly so—that Dean wouldn’t hesitate to leave Cas behind if the opportunity presented itself.

As soon as the Impala roars to life and makes its way back down to the main road, Claire ventures from her room and finds Sam running his hand through his hair, looking out the window in frustration.

“So, who’s Ben?” she asks quietly.

Sam startles and turns to her. “He’s, uh…he’s the son of one of Dean’s old girlfriends. When I went to Hell, Dean lived with Ben and Lisa for a year.”

“Oh,” Claire says. She can understand why hearing from an ex’s kid might be surprising and upsetting, but she has a feeling there’s more to the story to provoke such a reaction from Dean. “What happened?”

“Dean and Lisa had broken up by this point, but Crowley kidnapped Lisa and Ben. Lisa got possessed and seriously injured, and Ben had to help Dean fight their way out until I could meet them. Dean didn’t want anything else to happen to them because of their association with him, so he asked Cas to wipe their memories of him.”

“Dean did _what?_ ”

“Yeah. I still can’t believe he did that to them. I was also pretty much banned from ever speaking about them again.” Sam sighs. “I guess Ben remembers Dean, though. He somehow ended up in contact with Jody trying to find Dean.”

Something Dean said to Claire, not long after they had removed the Mark of Cain, comes back to her. “Dean once told me he got close to having a family and everything but that he screwed it up pretty bad. I’m guessing he meant Lisa and Ben?”

Sam just nods in response. Claire lets out a low whistle.

“So, are we going to Jody’s or not?”

Sam looks down at her in surprise. “What?”

“Oh, c’mon, Sam. You’re really going to let Dean and Cas handle this on their own? At the very least, Jody probably needs backup.”

“Guess you’re right,” Sam agrees. “Grab your stuff.”

“It’s already packed. I’ll clean up the cabin. You grab _your_ stuff.”

Twenty minutes later, Sam and Claire have piled into Sam’s truck and have taken off for Sioux Falls, which Claire’s GPS app tells her is about four hours away. Sam doesn’t need the GPS, having traveled the middle part of America so often with Dean that they can get almost anywhere just on instinct and muscle memory alone by now.

Claire tries to ask Sam more questions about Lisa and Ben, but Sam doesn’t know all that much. Finally, Claire snaps in exasperation.

“Dude, I know Dean is like the _worst_ when it comes to talking about anything personal, but how do you know so little about the longest relationship your brother has ever been in other than Cas?”

Sam shifts uncomfortably in the driver’s seat. “Well, like I said, they lived together when I went to Hell. But, I wasn’t really in Hell that long, at least my body wasn’t. For that year while Dean and Lisa were together, I was hunting, but I didn’t have a soul. And when Dean and I finally reconnected, I was still soulless for about six more months.”

“You were _soulless?_ ” No matter how many stories Claire hears about the brothers and Cas, she always feels like it’s just the tip of the iceberg. She knows the broad strokes—monsters, demons, angels, the Apocalypse, time in Heaven and Hell for both brothers, a stint in Purgatory for Dean and Cas—but there is just so much.

“Yeah, and I didn’t remember much of it for a while, just bits and pieces; I finally got all of my memories back, but they’re fuzzy, like trying to remember the details of a movie. Also, soulless me was a dick. I didn’t give a crap about what Dean was going through, so I never asked many questions about his relationship with Lisa and Ben. By the time I got my soul back, they were over.”

“Your lives suck.”

Sam snorts with a half-smile. “Tell me about it.”

They drive in companionable silence for a few miles, Claire manning the iPod hooked up to the car’s speakers. Sam is passably handy with cars, but nowhere near as good as Dean, and so he’d had to take the truck to a professional garage to update the radio system because Dean had said, quite eloquently, “If you want to douche up your truck like you did with Baby when I was in Hell, you can do that on your own time and dime.” Claire is just glad at least one of the Winchesters likes music made in the last decade. (Although Sam had sworn her to secrecy about a certain anecdote about Dean and Taylor Swift. Claire is just waiting for the right moment to pull out that juicy little bit of blackmail.)

“Hey, Sam?” Claire asks not long after they cross into South Dakota.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think Alex will be at Jody’s?” She tries to keep the annoyance out of her voice. Claire has only met Alex, Jody’s adopted ex-vampire-bait daughter, once, and Claire had been less than impressed: Alex had breezed in to Jody’s, given Dean, Sam, and Cas the most cursory of “hello’s”, then given the Claire the once-over, decided Claire obviously wasn’t worth her time, and left for a friend’s house.

“Not sure,” Sam answers truthfully. “I’d imagine she might be; she’s a senior in high school this year, and she’s still living with Jody, so…” Sam glances over at Claire. “Why? Not a fan?”

“Didn’t say that,” Claire responds. “Don’t really know her.” It’s not a lie.

“Well, if she’s there, give her a second chance. She’s had it rough.”

Claire rolls her eyes. “Yeah, and my life’s been freaking rainbows and unicorns.”

The younger Winchester looks at her sharply. “Look, I’m no one to point fingers, but I think you know better than anyone that you haven’t been a perfect poster child either. I mean, even last night at dinner?”

“God, it was one beer. Dean totally overreacted.”

“Not the point. You knew Dean would be pissed and you still challenged him.”

“So? I’m eighteen, I’m an adult,” Claire replies, and she knows she’s straying into whiny teenage territory, but she can’t help it.

“True. You can make your own decisions,” Sam concedes with a nod. “But I want you to consider three things: one, if you really thought you were ready to go out and live on your own, you wouldn’t still be at the bunker with Dean and Cas. Two—and take it from someone who knows—Dean is protective to a fault and that’s never going to change. Three, if you’ve made the decision to stay in the bunker, then you’ve also decided to live by Dean’s expectations.”

Claire crosses her arms, but uncrosses them almost immediately once she realizes just how immature and petulant the gesture seems. “I guess.”

“I’m not mad at you or judging you, Claire. Neither is Dean or Cas. I’m just saying we all have our own baggage, and we gotta deal with each other’s. You gave us lots of second chances, and we’ve given you the same. So maybe don’t give up on Alex yet.”

Claire stares out the passenger window. She knows he’s right, but admitting it is almost physically painful. At least she’s having this conversation with Sam, not Dean or Cas; Sam’s like the older brother she never had, and it’s easier hearing this from him. Plus, Sam totally gets it: Dean may be Sam’s older brother, but Claire gets the sense that Dean was sometimes more like a parent to Sam growing up, and now it’s Claire’s turn in Sam’s shoes.

“Fine,” she finally grumbles in acknowledgement of Sam’s request.

“Man, you’re as bad as Dean,” Sam teases.

“Hey…”

“Ok, you’re right. That’s not fair. Dean would have shut me up after about five seconds.”

“Awesome. So does this mean I get all of your pent-up heart-to-hearts?”

“Hey, like you said, you’re eighteen, you can do what you want. You’re the one who keeps sticking around and you’re the one who willingly signed up for this road trip.”

“Sure, throw that back in my face,” Claire snarks, but the corner of her mouth is twitched up in the barest hint of a smile.

“That’s the game plan.”


	5. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible trigger warning and disclaimer:
> 
> This chapter makes some mention of veterans and PTSD; Dean's perception of it and language towards it is less than flattering (mostly because he recognizes the disorder and its negative consequences in himself). I just want to make it clear that I am by no means trying to be dismissive or disrespectful of people, particularly in this case veterans or members of the armed forces, who have PTSD; Dean's language (calling someone a "poor bastard", for instance) is simply a reflection of what that character would realistically say or feel.

The ride to Sioux Falls has been tense with no conversation; Dean is thankful Cas hasn’t tried to get him to talk and has just let him listen to his music and attempt to drown out the thoughts on a loop in his brain.

Dean knows he’s the master of repression, and for the past four years, he’s managed to beat the majority of the memories of Lisa and Ben to the back of his mind; granted, since Claire had arrived, he’d thought more and more about Ben in particular, but he’d always rationalized it saying that Ben was better off without him and that maybe he could do better this time with Claire. But now, Ben is back and apparently he knows Dean, and all of Dean’s memory-wipe rationalizations have gone out the window.

Dean had once thought the worst was coming across Emma, his Amazon daughter, in Purgatory. But that had happened so fast: just as Emma and Dean recognized each other, Benny had beheaded her. He couldn’t blame Benny, just like he couldn’t blame Sam for killing her the first time. Benny hadn’t known, and Emma had just been one more monster trying to kill them. She’d been with a pack of other Amazons, and the fight had been quick, brutal, and bloody; there had been no time for meet and greets.

He never told Benny about it, but that night, he had told Cas while Benny was standing guard. It was just a prayer, and Dean doesn’t know if Cas heard all of his prayers, but he’d had to tell someone. Sometimes Dean thinks that even though the prayers were more like talking to himself and that if anyone “normal” had heard him they’d have thought him crazy, those nightly prayers were the only thing that kept him sane and human in that place.

Dealing with Emma’s second death in Purgatory had been easier than this. This is not a death. This is tearing open an old wound. There is no end point to this, this isn’t something to “get past”.

They’re a few miles out from Jody’s when Dean pulls over, the panic rising in his throat.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Cas,” he admits, his voice raw.

Cas looks up from the book he has been reading in between napping and shooting concerned looks at Dean. “You can. You have to, Dean. For Ben.”

“I know I have to. I just…I fucked things up so bad.”

“Yes, and we both ‘fucked things up’ with Claire at first. And now look at us,” Cas reminds him soothingly. “But I understand your worry: speaking with Jimmy again in Heaven was possibly one of the hardest things I have ever done.”

“This is different.” Dean rests his elbows on the top of the steering wheel and buries his head in his hands. “Cas, I’m pretty sure Lisa lied to me. About Ben.”

“What do you mean?”

“When I first met him and saw Lisa for the first time after, you know, that weekend we’d spent together, I did the math out. Ben could be mine, time-wise. Lisa denied it, said she’d gotten a paternity test and it wasn’t me. But…I think she didn’t want to burden me with some kid I hadn’t known about, and I don’t think she wanted Ben to find out who his real dad was just to have the guy leave again. I asked her a few more times when we were together, and she denied it every time.”

“But you still think she was lying?”

"Look, I loved her, but not the way I thought I did or should have." Dean pauses, hoping Cas won't be bothered by the admission—especially considering that Dean does not use that word lightly; he hadn't even used with Lisa herself. Then again, there is a difference between loving someone and being in love with someone. The ex-angel is silent, waiting for Dean to continue, so he breathes deep and launches into more confession. "I guess I loved her for Ben, and for that pipe dream of a life, and because she took me in, for the good and bad. But I knew her and she had a good poker face, but there was always something in her eyes whenever I asked…I dunno what it was, but I just got the feeling she was holding something back or was testing me to see if I really wanted the truth or that she was afraid of what the truth would mean."

“And Ben doesn’t know who his father is?”

“Not as far as I know. But, it’s not just what Lisa said…or didn’t say. There’s just something about him. Like sometimes I’d catch us both sitting or standing the same way. Or he’d make an expression that was like looking at Sammy as a kid all over again. I dunno…maybe I was just imagining things, seeing what I wanted to see.”

“You wanted Ben to be your son?”

“Yeah, I did, even though it was terrifying and I was such a fucking wreck that year. He’s a great kid, and I…I always wanted family, you know?” Dean leans back in the seat. “And then I fucked it up. If he is my son—hell, even if he isn’t—I took away his memories. Who does that?”

Cas doesn’t respond to that, and Dean can’t tell if the silence is better or worse than some sort of answer. Dean finally turns to Cas and meets those familiar intense blue eyes.

“What do you need from me, Dean?” Cas asks quietly.

Dean groans because of course Cas’ only thought is what he can do for Dean, even though the hunter knows he’s a piece of shit in this situation who doesn’t deserve help. “Nothing, Cas. Just being here’s good.”

“Of course. I’ll always stay with you.”

After so many years of Cas _not_ staying, Dean’s heart still thumps whenever the former angel says he will always be with Dean. To Dean, that promise is better than any other declaration—of love or otherwise—that Cas could ever make. Dean reaches across the bench seat and entwines his fingers in his angel’s. His left hand reaches for the feather pendant tucked under this shirt, and he rubs his thumb against it in a small circle before letting it drop back against his chest.

Ten minutes later, the Impala pulls up alongside Sheriff Mills’ house and Dean takes a deep breath before turning off the ignition and going up to the door. In the driveway is the police cruiser and what looks like an early 1970s Ford F100, if he’s not mistaken. He takes a moment to admire the truck before ringing the doorbell.

“Dean!” Jody answers the door and immediately pulls Dean into a strong hug once they’re in the warmth of the foyer.

“Hey, Jody,” Dean greets her, trying to keep his voice light but it still sounds strained in his own ears. He hopes Jody doesn’t think it’s directed at her.

“Hi Cas, how are you?” Jody gives Cas a warm hug as well.

“I’m well, Jody. And you?”

“Doing ok,” she says with a nod before turning back to Dean. “He’s upstairs in the spare bedroom. He told his mom he was staying at a friend’s house for the weekend and drove through the night. Got to Bobby’s around nine this morning. He crashed a couple hours ago, but I think he’s up again now.”

Dean nods, and reaches back for Cas’ hand. Cas gives it a quick squeeze.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Cas asks in a low rumble.

“No, I gotta do this part alone.”

“Cas, how about I get you a cup of tea or coffee?” Jody offers.

“Thank you, coffee would be great,” Cas answers, shrugging off his coat before elbowing Dean, who realizes he’s still wearing his own. He watches Cas and Jody move off towards the kitchen, then reluctantly starts climbing the stairs.

He’s only been to Jody’s house twice, and only once upstairs, but luckily the door to the spare bedroom is ajar and he finds Ben lying on the bed, eyes open, headphones jammed into his ears. Dean swallows, and knocks on the door, which swings open further with the light impact.

Ben jumps up off the bed, ripping the headphones out. The first thing Dean notices is how _tall_ the sixteen-year-old’s gotten. He’s nearly Dean’s height; Dean guesses the kid is just shy of six feet and he looks like he might have another inch or two left in him. His shoulders are broad, but he still has the wiry strength of a teenager who hasn’t quite filled out yet. Dean is reminded of Sammy back at that age, or even when Dean dragged him out of Stanford and started up this crazy mess all over again.

“Dean?” The emotions flash quickly across the boy’s face, and Dean is fairly sure he picks up confusion, recognition, betrayal, shock, and maybe a little hope. His eyes—the same shade of brown as Lisa’s—widen, then narrow when Dean doesn’t respond right away.

Dean wants to hug him and wants to run away all at the same time. He tenses, as though expecting a fight—hell, if he were Ben, throwing a punch wouldn’t seem all that unreasonable. Finally he manages to choke out, “Hey, Ben.”

“It’s you. It’s really you. You’re _real_.”

“Uh, yeah. I’m…real,” Dean acknowledges awkwardly, unsure what to make of Ben’s observation. “How…how do you know who I am?”

“I remember you. Kind of. It’s confusing.” His eyebrows furrow, and he settles back onto the bed, resting his elbows on his knees. Dean stays by the door, not wanting to invade Ben’s small sanctuary. There are so many questions Dean wants to ask, so many answers he’s afraid of. He decides to have Ben start at the beginning.

“What made you remember?”

Ben runs his hand through his hair in an extremely familiar gesture, and Dean’s stomach flips. “Um, it started with this stupid webseries. The _Ghostfacers._ ”

Dean can’t help it, but he barks a laugh. “The _Ghostfacers?_ Don’t tell me those two asshats are still posting shit online.”

“I dunno. But there’s an old house in town and one of my friends was telling me about how they shot a video there a few years ago because I guess the house is supposed to be haunted. So we were watching it, and laughing at how stupid it was, and then we started watching a second one. It was all like ‘how to catch a ghost’ or whatever.”

Dean nods. Murky memories of those weird-ass three weeks he spent as a corporate douchebag surface, including the video he’d found of Ed and Harry explaining hunting for dummies—and insulting him and Sam in the process.

“And you recognized my name in the video?” he asks.

“Not exactly. But every time they went to explain something, it just felt so familiar. Like before they said it, I _knew_ they were going to explain how iron or salt rounds work. I didn’t think much of it until that night when I had what I thought was just a nightmare. But it wasn’t.”

Dean’s blood runs cold. “What…did you remember?”

“The night Mom was possessed,” Ben says quietly, drawing into himself. “It was like a constant loop: I saw you holding Mom and I had the shotgun and I could hear you telling me I needed to be strong and that if anything came at us, I had to shoot it.”

“Fuck…” Dean breathes out, and there is a metallic taste in his mouth as he remembers slapping Ben to snap him out of shock and giving him orders to hunt, orders he swore he’d never give a kid.

“Yeah. And I thought it was weird the next morning, you know? Especially once I realized that I was imagining the random guy who hit our car years ago.”

“And let me guess, the dreams didn’t stop?”

Ben nods. “They got worse. So I started researching the _Ghostfacers_ and then ‘Winchester’ because that name from the video kept sticking in my head. I found these books, _Supernatural._ ”

“Shit…” Apparently, all Dean can do is just utter expletives throughout this story.

“I figured it was just some promo thing the _Ghostfacers_ were doing with the publishing company or whatever. But I was flipping through the book descriptions and found one called ‘The Kids are Alright,’ and I saw my name, and Mom’s name, and it was talking about Changelings and…” Ben breaks off, and he’s clutching his forehead in memory of the pain. Dean remembers how bad Sam was when Cas broke the wall in his mind and his heart sinks.

“You got your memories back?”

“I passed out, woke up twenty minutes later with a migraine and a whole extra set of memories.”

“Extra set?”

“Yeah. Like I remember _both_ , the real and the fake. I remember you, but I also remember John.”

Dean’s posture goes ramrod straight. “John _who?_ ”

“John Campbell. He lived with us for a year in my other memories, the same year you lived with us in my actual memories.”

“Goddammit,” Dean mutters. Now he knows how Cas changed their memories: he didn’t _erase_ Dean, he _replaced_ Dean. And Cas being Cas, of course he named this fictional guy after Dean’s family members. He rubs the back of his neck and paces just inside the doorway. “So what was this John Campbell like?”

“Pretty similar to you, except he looked nothing like you. But he is—was?—an old boyfriend of Mom’s. I first met him when he was in town when I turned eight, then he showed up after getting back from Afghanistan. He worked construction, taught me about cars. Basically, he did everything you did, except without the monsters and crap.”

“He was a veteran?” Of course. Dean has never served in the military, but whenever he has met veterans, they often assume he has. And considering his upbringing by an ex-Marine and the shit he’s been through, serving in a war seems like a pretty apt comparison.

“Yeah. Guess he saw some stuff over there that messed him up bad, but he got better.”

“Jesus, Ben. I’m sorry. This isn’t what I wanted. I didn’t want you to remember me because I fucked things up so bad. So you got stuck with memories of some poor bastard with PTSD?” Again, the parallel’s detail hits too close to home; Dean might not be one for a lot of introspection, but he’s not stupid: he knows he’s probably a textbook case of PTSD himself. It ain’t pretty, and combine it with the alcohol and grief, he knows just how much strain he put on the Braedens. Why would Cas make fake memories where they still had to deal with that shit?

Ben’s eyes narrow and he gets up from the bed. “Wait, what do you mean this isn’t what _you_ wanted?”

Dean freezes. _Fuck. He didn’t know I’m the one responsible for the memories switch. How could he? He wasn’t there when I asked Cas._ “I, uh…”

“You _asked_ for this?! _You’re_ the reason why my memory and Mom’s memory got wiped?! What the hell, Dean!”

“I’m sorry!” Dean half-shouts. “Christ, you have no idea how fucking sorry I am, Ben. I never meant for this to happen.”

“Why’d you do it, Dean?! What else did you change?!”

“Nothing!” Dean wants to hit something, anything to release the anger and tension and frustration and guilt. “Just me. I asked…someone…to make you forget me. Because I ruined everything. I thought…I thought you’d be better, safer, without me.”

“What the hell,” Ben repeats, his hands balling into fists. “I thought…I thought I didn’t remember because something happened to you, too.”

“No,” Dean admits. “After you and your mom got kidnapped, I…”

“They were _my_ memories, Dean.” Ben’s glare is intense and full of hurt and betrayal. Dean can’t meet his eyes and he stares at blank spot on the wall above the bed.

“I know,” he chokes out. “See? I fuck up everything. You deserve better.”

“I deserved the truth,” Ben argues, then pushes past Dean and heads downstairs.

“Ben—” he calls, but the boy doesn’t answer. Dean leans back against the wall, his chin turned up to the ceiling as though by tilting his face and defying gravity’s pull on his tears he can force himself not to cry. Distantly, he hears voices from the kitchen, then the slam of the front door. An engine turns over outside, which finally sparks Dean and he rushes downstairs. Jody and Cas meet him in the hall.

“Don’t worry, Dean. He’s not leaving for good. He said he just needed to get out of the house for a bit,” Jody says with a hand on his forearm.

“How do you know he just won’t take off?” Dean counters.

“I don’t,” Jody concedes. “But it’s a full day’s drive for him back to Michigan and unless he snuck his duffel bag out to the car when I wasn’t looking, I’d bet it’s still upstairs.”

“Ok,” Dean mutters. “Cas, we gotta talk.”

Cas studies him intently, and it’s clear he’s about to ask a question when the doorbell rings. Through the frosted glass, Dean can see two figures, one very tall and one short. _Jesus fucking Christ…_ He’d know those silhouettes anywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why I think Ben is actually Dean's son:
> 
> 1) Lisa's claim that the father is some bar back at a biker joint: "Leather jacket, couple of scars, no mailing address? I was there." -- no mailing address? So, clearly this guy isn't someone who was around a lot or was reliable. How'd she get a paternity test done? Also, the story seems a little too convenient.
> 
> 2) Lisa's absolute panic and quick denial when Dean asks. Not only does it have all the hallmarks of being caught in a lie, but her panic is completely understandable: why would she want to upset the family life she has by bringing Dean, a virtual unknown with hardly the most upstanding background, into her son's life? And even when they were living together, how could Lisa ever tell Dean she lied? And would she want to? Dean wasn't exactly in a good place that year, and she says she knew as soon as Sam showed up that Dean would leave. Lisa ALWAYS expected Dean to leave. Why do that to her son?
> 
> 3) The obvious: Ben and Dean's personalities and age/timeline.
> 
> 4) The demon who possesses Lisa taunts Dean (and Ben) saying that Dean is Ben's father. Granted, the demon then says 'Just kidding', but I'm still counting this because demons are known to lie...but they also tell the truth when it will mess with someone the most. Also, if the demon has access to Lisa's thoughts, there might be doubt in Lisa's mind (which also tracks with what the demon says later), but Lisa still considers Dean a possibility.
> 
> 5) The women at the birthday party gossip when they hear Dean's name: "You don't know about Dean? THE Dean. Best-night-of-my-life Dean?" Ok, let's think about this: when Dean and Lisa were together, they were 19/20 years old. It's been almost 9 years since they've seen each other, and yet the weekend with Dean still remains SO memorable for Lisa that random neighborhood friends have heard about him and his sexual prowess (and are familiar enough with the story to comment on it to each other)? I'm not saying Dean wouldn't be good in the sack and worthy of dishing about later (because, let's be real here), but maybe the reason Lisa is STILL talking about that "best night of her life" has more to do with what she got out of that night than the actual event itself.
> 
> 6) In 6x11 "Appointment in Samarra," when Dean prepares to temporarily die so he can talk to Death, he gives the sketchy doctor a letter to be delivered to Ben in case anything happens to him. The doctor expresses surprise, saying he'd have expected a letter for Sam, but Dean says if he doesn't come back, then Sam won't care (because this is during his soulless period). Makes total sense why Sam's not getting a letter. Lisa wouldn't get a letter because they'd broken up at this point. So why Ben if Dean isn't going back to live with them? Or, even more surprising, why not Bobby?? Bobby is Dean's surrogate dad and Dean knows Bobby would be heartbroken if Dean died; he deserves a letter. But, Ben is the one who gets the farewell note. At the very least, if it's not because Ben is actually his, Dean feels like he is Ben's Bobby...but I think it's because Dean believes Ben might be his kid.
> 
> 7) It's Supernatural. Heartbreaking metas are kinda what the show is all about. Also, from a meta/writing point of view: SPN deals a lot with bloodlines, but I don't see either Dean and Sam settling down anytime soon and having families. I think Ben could be a convenient way to continue that theme, much like Adam was. Adam's story is done (because I don't think he's ever getting out of the Cage), but Ben is an established character they could pull off the back burner if they needed another bloodline arc. Considering they brought Claire back in season 10 after her sole appearance way back in season 4, bringing Ben back isn't beyond the realm of possibility. Plus, with the whole lost memories and broken families thing, there'd be plenty of room for angst, pain, and guilt (aka. a typical SPN arc).


	6. Catching Up

After thirty-two years, Sam supposes he should be used to his brother’s explosions of anger when he’s upset and hurting. He supposes he is, but that doesn’t mean he has to like them. Thankfully, ever since the Mark of Cain has been removed and Dean has settled down, more or less, with Cas and Claire in the bunker, these outbursts have been fewer and farther between. But this one, despite the lack of world-ending doom prompting it, is one of the worst Sam’s seen in a long time. Logically, he knows Dean isn’t angry at him, not really, but it still doesn’t make him feel any better to listen to his brother shout at him.

“What the fucking hell, Sam! I told you to take Claire back to the bunker!” Dean growls at him once Jody has ushered them into the living room. Behind Dean, Sam sees Claire about to open her mouth, probably to protest that she’s the one who suggested they come or that she has a right to be there, but Sam stops her with a minute shake of his head. He has far more practice defusing Dean and doesn’t want Claire to get caught in the crossfire.

“You’re right, you did. But you’re my brother, Dean. This is about _family_ , so as your family, we’re here.” Honestly, Sam doesn’t know what, if anything, he can do to help Dean about this whole mess, but damned if he’s going to let his brother deal with it on his own. Or make Cas and Jody deal with the fallout.

Thankfully, playing the family card works— _when doesn’t it with Dean?_ —and his older brother sets his jaw firmly. “Fine. But we’re not sitting down and having a family powwow and fucking singing ‘Kumbaya’, ok? I gotta talk to Ben, and I’m doing it alone.”

“Fine,” Sam replies, echoing his brother.

Despite the anger radiating off Dean’s body, his eyes are watery, distant, and deadened. As they were pulling onto Jody’s road, they’d seen an old truck with a teen driver go tearing out of the neighborhood, so Sam assumes that the first round with Ben didn't go well. Jody is slightly behind Sam, not wanting to intrude on the family drama, while Cas is by the fireplace, his hands clenching and unclenching as though he’s not sure what do to with Dean. Hell, Sam doesn’t know what to do with his brother.

A hand pulls on Dean’s forearm, and at first he jerks out of the grasp, until he realizes that it’s just Claire. Dean turns guiltily in her direction, but Claire stands her ground, and wraps her arms around his middle. Sam watches as his brother’s shoulders slump perceptibly, and he’s not sure but he thinks he hears Claire mumble something into Dean’s shirt along the lines of, “It’s gonna be ok. It was for me, eventually.”

“Thanks, kiddo.” Dean whispers, one hand on her back, the other in her hair. He kisses the top of her head and they let go.

And after thirty-two years, Sam supposes he should be used to his brother’s softer side, despite all of his protests that he doesn’t do “feelings” or “chick-flick” moments. He supposes that he is, but it still surprises him to see how (comparatively) easily Dean lets down his emotional guard these days.

Dean scrubs his face with his hand, then rounds on Cas. They exchange one of their silent conversations, this one surprisingly shorter than most, and some sort of decision seems to be made.

“Jody, would you mind if we used your office to talk?” Cas asks, ever the polite guest.

“Sure. Door’s a little sticky, but give it a good shove and it’ll close,” Jody answers with a nod down the hall towards the home office at the back of the house.

“Thank you,” Cas answers and Dean stalks out of the room. The ex-angel follows almost reluctantly, and Sam knows that whatever it is they have to talk about, it’s not going to be fun for either of them.

Once they hear the office door close, Jody ushers Sam and Claire into the kitchen, not taking “we grabbed some snacks on the road” as an acceptable answer to her question about lunch.

Jody digs out some cold cuts and sandwich fixings, and in no time, Sam and Claire are settled around Jody’s round kitchen table actively trying not to listen to raised but muffled voices coming from the office. They can’t make out what Dean and Cas are saying, but judging by their tones, both are agitated. Jody joins them at the table with a mug of coffee.

“Well, gotta say, I wish you were here in better circumstances,” Jody admits. “But, it’s still good to see you. How’s school going, Claire?”

Claire shrugs. “Pretty good, I guess. Just finished finals last week, so I’m out until the end of January.”

“Man, I wish Alex would get her act together and apply to a couple schools for next year. Maybe you can knock some sense into her,” Jody sighs; Sam gives Claire a reassuring smile across the table.

“Where is Alex?” Sam asks, pushing his empty plate back from the edge of the table and resting his arms in its place.

“Working. She’s got a couple shifts at the second-hand clothes store down on Main.”

“Good for her,” Sam smiles, but Jody gives small huff.

“Yeah, I guess. I told her I didn’t want her working because I wanted her to just focus on school, but then she made it clear what she could do with all her free time if she wasn’t working…” Jody rolls her eyes. “Oh well. She likes the work, it keeps her out of trouble, or least out of _some_ trouble, and her grades haven’t gotten any worse.”

Sam thinks back to the conversation he and Claire had in the car earlier. Sure, he’d been upfront with her, and there were definitely times she played the teenage attitude card to the nth degree, but he can’t help but think that Dean and Cas got the easier deal than Jody. But, he has faith in Jody and knows that if anyone can help out Alex, it’s her.

“She’ll come around, Jody. Sounds like she’s already doing ok for herself.”

“Thanks, Sam,” the sheriff replies with a warm smile. “So tell me about the apartment. How’s that going? You like my housewarming present?”

Sam chuckles. “Yeah, I did. Thanks again.” Jody, ever practical, had sent him a Lowe’s giftcard and a notebook with simple recipes; he is still nowhere near as good a cook as Dean—and, truth be told, there are definitely days he spends a little longer researching and manning the hunter network phones than he probably has to so that he can feasibly mooch dinner off of his brother—but it's nice being able to fend for himself in his own space. “The apartment’s going good. Used the card for paint for the living room—”   

“Ugh, you shoulda seen it before: it was this nasty brownish yellow color,” Claire chimes in, scrunching up her nose at the memory. “And I didn’t know dry paint could smell. But it _smelled_.”

“Yellow paint, though, not wallpaper?” Jody asks, an eyebrow raised and a smile in her eyes.

“Yeah, just paint. No risk of going all Charlotte Perkins Gilman in there,” Sam jokes.

Claire’s brow furrows. “Is that the stupid short story about the weirdo lady obsessed with the wallpaper? God, that sucked to read.”

“Hey, it’s a classic,” Sam counters.

“Whatever. It was ten pages of batshit crazy.”

Sam can’t argue that. The discussion on psychological practice and sexism during Gilman's time period will just have to wait for another day.

Claire gets up and clears the plates despite Jody’s protests, and Sam gets up to wash, arguing that the “guests” rule doesn’t really apply when you show up at someone’s house because your own family’s drama has spilled over into your host’s life. _Especially when you can still hear that family drama two rooms over…_ Dean and Cas’ voices have gotten quieter, but Sam can still faintly hear the low rumbles of each of their voices and the creak of floorboards as someone—probably Dean—paces.

“Speaking of which,” Sam asks, wiping his hands on a towel; the plates and silverware had only taken a minute to wash, “how did Ben end up here anyway? It’s not like you ever met him.”

“He showed up at Bobby’s place, said Dean had taken him to stay there once. The guy who owns it now, Craig Melbourne, called me up. We’ve had a few people—hunters—come looking for Bobby, though none in the last couple years; I told Craig—good guy, known him for years—when he bought the place that might happen and to call me. And I told him to be careful digging around the yard…and not to touch anything that had weird markings on it.”

Sam nods. After Bobby died, they’d managed to take his lore and supplies, but there was no way to be sure they’d gotten everything: Bobby’d been—in his own words—a paranoid bastard who’d stashed resources everywhere. “And this Craig guy was ok with it? He knows about…everything?”

“Folks don’t talk about it much, but everyone in Sioux Falls remembers The Week,” Jody explains softly, and Sam follows her gaze to a set of pictures on the wall, particularly one with a small blond boy in Jody’s arms. Sam has never asked how Owen died the first time, but there is a small gold ribbon tucked in between the frame and the glass that is answer enough. Sam ducks his head in deference to Jody’s pain; no one should have to watch their child die once, never mind twice or in such horrible circumstances.

“Oh, right.” Sam knows it’s a pretty shitty response, but how do you talk about the week the dead rose from their graves, reunited with their families, then turned into monsters and killed the people they loved?

Jody puts on a brave smile and quickly changes the topic. “So I got some of the story from Ben and more of it from Cas while Dean was talking to Ben. Is it true? Dean asked Cas to wipe the kid and his mom’s minds?”

Sam knows she’s not asking because she thinks Cas lied, but because she _hopes_ Cas lied. “Yeah,” he sighs. “Not one of Dean’s better moments.”

Jody shakes her head sadly.

“Do you know where Ben went?” Claire asks.

“No, just said he needed to get out of the house. Grabbed his keys and took off. Don’t worry, I got his cellphone number and I’m pretty sure all his stuff is still here. He’ll be back.”

“Jody, in case my brother forgets to say it, thanks. You didn’t have to do this.”

“Sure I did. That’s just what you do,” Jody shrugs, as though it’s obvious. “That being said, I love having you boys and Claire here, but this house just isn’t that big.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll grab rooms at a motel.”

Claire gives him a rueful look at the thought of a motel room. “I already miss the cabin and the bunker.”

Before Sam can reply, he hears the office door open. Cas comes into the kitchen alone, and Sam can only watch as Cas sinks heavily into a kitchen chair as the front door slams.

_This can’t be good._


	7. Free Will

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible trigger warning and disclaimer:
> 
> This chapter makes some mention of veterans and PTSD; Dean's perception of it and language towards it is less than flattering (mostly because he recognizes the disorder and its negative consequences in himself). I just want to make it clear that I am by no means trying to be dismissive or disrespectful of people, particularly in this case veterans or members of the armed forces, who have PTSD; Dean's language (calling someone "some fucked up dude", for instance) is simply a reflection of what that character would realistically say or feel.

“Jody, would you mind if we used your office to talk?” Cas asks, breaking away from Dean’s stare.

“Sure. Door’s a little sticky, but give it a good shove and it’ll close.”

“Thank you,” Cas replies, keeping his voice as polite as possible despite the tension building between him and Dean. He’s not entirely sure what it is that Dean wants to speak to him about privately, beyond the obvious that it has something to do with Ben, but it’s clear that Dean is unbelievably upset and that some of it is directed right at him.

He follows Dean into Jody’s office, pushing firmly against the door until it slides home with a thud. The room is small, with a neat desk and chair, Jody’s awards and certificates on the wall, and a small bookcase under the window looking out to the backyard. There’s enough room for both of them to stand comfortably, but Dean takes up much of the remaining space with pacing.

As soon as Cas closes the door, Dean starts in on him.

“What the fuck, Cas?” Dean’s voice is just below a shout.

Dean offers nothing more, leaving Cas unsure what it is he is being accused of. “What did Ben say?” he asks cautiously.

“You only _replaced_ me! I told you I didn’t want them to remember me because I wanted their lives to _not_ be fucked up but all you did was stick them with most of the same crap they put up with from me! _John Campbell?_ Seriously? Some fucked up dude with PTSD? Christ, Cas, what the hell were you thinking?”

“Dean, I told you before: I was just a seraph. I was incredibly powerful but nowhere _near_ as powerful as would have been necessary to fabricate an alternate reality for them without you in it or to completely erase you from their minds without destroying them and leaving them no better than ‘vegetables’, to use the crude colloquialism.”

“ _What?!_ You never told me that was even a fucking possibility!”

“ _You never asked,_ ” Cas growls through gritted teeth. “All you told me was to make them forget you, but did you ever stop to consider the enormity of that request?”

Dean stops pacing and stares at Cas. “What’d you mean?”

“It wasn’t just the memories of two people, Dean. You lived with them for a _year_. You were involved in their lives, their family, their community _for a year_. You didn’t just hide away in the Braedens’ home: you interacted with _dozen_ _s_ of people in the context of their lives. Did you really think it would be so easy to just pluck your existence out of Lisa and Ben’s memory and they could just carry on in their lives? That no one would ask about you or bring you up?”

Judging from the look on Dean’s face, he hadn’t considered this at all. “So what, you just mojo-ed everyone else in town? And that was somehow easier than making them forget entirely?”

“Yes, it was far simpler to change their _perception_ of you than to erase you entirely.”

“Dammit, Cas. You still left them with pretty fucked memories. I wanted their lives to be _better_ , not the same minus the supernatural shit.”

Cas had hoped that the logical, logistical argument would be enough to calm Dean, but it had been a very small hope. His voice drops even lower than usual, and it is cold and quiet. “For someone who declared himself a part of Team Free Will and was insistent on ‘screwing destiny’, you seem incredibly convinced that you did the right thing by taking away someone _else’s_ free will and right to the truth.”

Silence.

“You could’ve said no when I asked,” Dean counters finally, desperately deflecting.

“You’re right, I could have and I should have. My transgressions and betrayals that year are also the reason Lisa and Ben were targeted in the first place. I’m not absolving myself of any guilt in this matter.” Cas locks eyes with Dean, but the heat of the past few moments is ebbing. Now there is just firm resolve in both his stare and his voice. “Dean, I gave them John Campbell because even if I took away your entire existence and it didn’t leave them catatonic, the ‘happy life’ fake memories you wanted for them would have erased or invalidated everything they became over that year because of you.”

“That was the fucking point!”

“No, you don’t understand. Maybe they would have been ‘happier,’ but they grew and changed over that year. The people they are today, the decisions they make, are all based on their experiences, good or bad. The John Campbell memories were the closest to the truth of those experiences without being literally true. And even you can’t honestly say that it was all bad. I know you, Dean: you would not have stayed that long if you truly believed you were ruining their lives so horrifically. In fact…” Cas breaks the stare and his eyes drift over to the wall of certificates and awards, but he is looking through them, not at them.

“In fact _what_ , Cas?” Dean moves closer to Cas, forcing him to look him in the eyes.

“In fact, I used to watch over you, Dean. You couldn’t see me, but I had to know you were safe and well, and you were. There was one day…I watched you rake leaves, and…and that was the day Crowley convinced me to work with him. I went with him because I couldn’t tear you away from that life, because no matter what you say, no matter what bad may have happened, there were good things that happened that year. For you. For Lisa. For Ben.”

Dean walks away from him, his hand pinching the bridge of his nose, his eyes closed. “Goddammit, Cas. What do I do?” Dean asks in an almost plea, his voice raw with emotion.

“I don’t know, Dean. I don’t have the answers. The best I can say is talk to Ben again. Maybe you can make him understand. We have both done terrible things because we thought we were doing the right thing, and miraculously we still have people who have forgiven us. Perhaps Ben will be one of them.”

“I don’t think this deserves forgiveness.”

“That’s not for you to decide, Dean. That’s for Ben to decide. That’s his _choice_. The least you can do is give him the facts to make an informed decision.”

Dean sinks into the desk chair, his elbows on this knees, his head buried in his hands. Cas lays a hand on the hunter’s shoulder and he can feel Dean’s racking breaths as he tries to calm himself. Eventually, the breathing steadies and Dean pulls his head up.

“I’m going to go back out with the others,” Cas says slowly. “Unless you need me to stay here.”

“No, I’m fine.”

“If you don’t want to be disturbed, I will explain so to them. Or, you could follow Ben’s lead: go for a drive to 'clear your head'. I’m sure you’ll be back before he is.”

Dean stands up and wraps his arms around Cas, burying his head in the former angel’s shoulder and his fists in the back of Cas’ shirt. Cas holds his hunter tight, his eyes closed. They stay like this for what seems both like an eternity and an instant before finally mutually pulling away.

“I’m going to go out,” Dean says.

Cas nods. “I’ll call if Ben returns before you.”

“Thanks, Cas. And, uh, I was an ass. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. It’s not your fault.”

“I told you, I carry guilt and responsibility in this matter, too. But thank you,” Cas replies, recognizing the apology in Dean’s words. Dean kisses Cas by way of goodbye before they leave the office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As much as there are times I love the idea of adorable, cuddly Cas, I think we all sometimes forget that Cas does NOT take anyone's shit, least of all Dean's. So, I tried to keep that in mind when I wrote this chapter: I wanted him to be supportive of Dean (ultimately), but also help Dean realize 1) he's being an ass 2) Cas isn't a fucking doormat who's just gonna apologize and make Dean feel better and 3) Dean asked Cas to do something really shitty and while Cas should feel somewhat responsible for it, it's DEAN'S fault, too.
> 
> Hope it worked. :)


	8. Twelve Steps

A couple hours or so after arriving at Jody’s, Dean and Ben are still MIA and the rest of the them have each moved off into their own little routines. Jody has retreated to her office apologetically, saying she has some paperwork she needs to get done before going back on duty tomorrow. Cas and Sam are watching some documentary about early Christianity in the living room, Cas of course providing commentary and corrections. Claire claims a spot in an armchair—the show is actually fairly interesting in a totally dorky way—and listens absently while playing random games on her phone.

The battery warning beeps, and she sighs.

“Hey, Sam? Can I get the keys to the truck? Need to grab my charger.”

The younger Winchester digs them out of his pocket and tosses them over to her casually, and she makes her way to the hallway. She tugs on her boots, then dashes out to the truck, her arms wrapped tight around her and the wind biting into the thin fabric of her shirt. It takes her a couple minutes to rummage through her bag to find the cord because, naturally, it has wormed itself down to the bottom underneath her clothes.

An engine rumbles behind her, and without looking she knows it’s not the Impala; it’s not low or loud enough. Claire turns to find Alex getting out of a ten-year old blue sedan of one kind or another. The other girl looks at Claire with a smirk as she brushes a long lock of dark hair away from her face.

“Hey,” Claire greets her.

“Hey. Guess the family drama’s still going on, huh? It’s Claire, right?”

Claire nods to both questions. “So you already heard about all this?”

Alex shrugs. “Kinda. Was out of the house already when Jody texted me. Said some kid named Ben showed up looking for Dean and that you guys would probably be here when I got back.”

Claire hugs herself tightly and wishes she’d brought her jacket; she hadn’t planned on being out here long. “I’m going in,” she shivers and starts back to the house.

“Wait, Claire!”

Claire stops and turns, hoping Alex will let her retreat back into the warmth soon. “What?”

“Are Sam and Dean still in there?” Alex says and Claire notices that there’s a hint of worry in her voice. Claire frowns, puzzled.

“Sam and Cas are. Dean’s out, but he’ll be back. Why?”

Alex fidgets slightly. “Nothing. Tell Jody I’m heading out again, k?”

“Hold on,” Claire stops her. “What’s going on? What’s the issue with Sam and Dean?”

“I said nothing,” Alex repeats defensively. Claire puts herself between Alex and the car door, not giving an inch and raising an eyebrow in disbelief. Judging from the last time she met Alex, Claire isn’t expecting much of a response, so it surprises her when Alex’s eyes dart furtively for a moment before she cracks and responds, “They’re hunters.”

Claire barks a laugh. “Yeah…no shit. Jody’s done her fair share of hunting, too.”

Alex rolls her eyes. “You wouldn’t understand. I’ve…I’m… Whatever. I’m outta here.”

“I wouldn’t understand?” Claire repeats dismissively and she tries hard not to roll her own eyes. “Right. You don’t know jack about me. And I _live_ with Dean and Cas. Trust me, I’d understand.” Claire looks back at the house and thinks about what Sam said earlier. “You don’t want to go back in the house, fine. There somewhere we can go? I’ll grab my coat.”

The other girl considers, looking Claire up and down. This time, she seems to come to a better appraisal because she nods. “I’ll go tell Jody.”

They walk into the house where they split off—Claire to the living room and Alex to the office. Claire grabs her coat from the hooks on the hallway on the way in.

“Here, Sam.” She hands the keys back, plugs in her phone to charge and grabs her purse off of the end table next to the couch. “Cas?”

Cas looks up from the TV. “Hm?”

“I’m heading out with Alex for a bit. My phone’s kinda dead though, so…”

“I’d get you one of the spares but they’re all in the Impala,” Cas frowns. He digs his own phone out of his pocket, texts a quick message, then gets up and hands it over. “I told Dean to call Sam or Jody if he needs me and that you’ll have my phone for the time being.”

“Thanks. I promise I won’t go through your stuff. Just for emergencies.”

Sam grins from the couch. “Good plan. Don’t think you want to be scarred for life.”

“Oh God, Sam! Gross.” Claire grimaces. _And this is exactly_ _why I have absolutely no desire to find those stupid_ _books about them. TMI._

Cas’ eyes flick to the ceiling in resigned annoyance. “So where are you and Alex going?”

“Dunno. Out. We’ll be back soon. I’ll let you know where we are.”

“Good,” the former angel nods. Claire gives him a quick hug, says bye to Sam, then heads back to the foyer where she finds Alex by the door.

About two minutes into the ride with Alex, Claire begins to regret her decision to give the other girl a chance when Alex’s first suggestion of what to do is to head over to her friend’s house and get stoned.

“What?” Alex asks sarcastically and condescendingly when Claire declines the offer. “Afraid you’ll get in trouble?”

Claire huffs and rolls her eyes. “No, I just don’t do pot anymore.”

“Why not? Gotta have something for a release.”

For the most part, Claire tries not to think about her past, even though all of the shit she’s been through is what got her to the bunker and her current life in the first place. She doesn’t like to talk about all of the angel-demon crap, but at least the Winchesters know that side of the story already. But her time in the group home? The time she spent as a runaway or with Randy? Those stories aren’t any easier to talk about either. But, she figures Alex won’t let up until she has a satisfactory answer, so Claire goes for the truth.

“Couple of my friends when I was in the group home got high and died in a car accident. Haven’t smoked since.”

“Oh.” Alex falls silent as she turns the car down windy neighborhood streets. “So a group home, huh? How’d you end up with the hunters?”

“Long story.”

“Short version?”

Claire doesn’t respond.

“Oh come on. I’m sure they already told you my story: I was kidnapped and raised by vampires and was their blood slave and fucking lure for eight years until Jody beheaded my vampire mom and got me out while the Winchesters killed my brothers. Oh, and Mama turned me and I had to go through three days of hell to be cured. Try me.”

Claire sighs. “Cas used to be Castiel, Angel of the Lord. Cas asked my dad to be his vessel, so my dad disappeared. Then he came back, my mom got possessed by a demon, I became Castiel’s vessel for a little while before he returned to my dad. Mom couldn’t deal and bailed. Lived with my grandmother for a couple years until she died. Then I bounced around foster care and the group home.”

“And so, what? Cas decided to adopt you and boom! Insta-family?”

“Kinda. He tried getting me out of the group home, but I ran off to this guy Randy and my friend Dustin. Randy tried to be my dad and I thought he was family, but when he didn’t have money to pay off this creep, he tried selling me. Dean, Cas, and Sam showed up. Dean had a curse that made him a psychopath and he massacred Randy and all those guys. I ran away, tried to get Dean killed, then showed up again when I ran out of money. Then, ‘cause Cas lost his Grace, they used the remaining bit of Cas’s Grace that was in me from being a vessel to save Dean from the curse.”

Alex lets out a whistle. “That’s the short version?”

“More or less. Got kidnapped by demons and a witch, who’s the King of Hell’s mom, last spring. Met Dean and Sam’s surrogate dad as a ghost. Got a letter from my dad in Heaven. Our family vacation was an excuse for them to hunt a poltergeist. You know, the usual.”

“God, we sound like a fucking anon support group with twelve steps and shit. ‘Hi, my name is Suzy, my parents are werewolves and I’ve been human flesh free for three months.’ ‘Hi, my name is Mike and I’m the Antichrist,'” Alex says with exaggerated accents for her characters.

“Actually, the Antichrist’s name is Jesse. Cas, Dean, and Sam met him. Nice kid, I guess. Turned Cas into an action figure,” Claire replies and Alex gives her a _you’re joking, right?_ look which Claire answers with a _nope, completely serious_ look of her own; apparently, an Angel of the Lord getting turned into about six inches of plastic was a highlight of the Apocalypse, in retrospect, so it’s a story that’s been told a few times around the bunker; only with the Winchesters is meeting the freaking Antichrist just the setup for a punchline.

“Man, our lives are fucked up.”

“No kidding.” Claire looks down at the messenger bag-style purse sitting in her lap, a gift from Cas and Dean for her birthday (she has a sneaking suspicion Charlie helped them pick it out). “But it’s better now. I know that they freak you out because they’re hunters, but Dean, Cas, and Sam are good guys. And you have Jody.”

“Yeah, Jody’s pretty cool and all, for a cop,” Alex agrees nonchalantly, but Claire recognizes the tone: it’s one she’s used when talking about her new family and she knows just how much is left unsaid.

They’re on Main Street and still haven’t decided on a destination when Claire sees a red truck that looks familiar outside a coffee shop. She’s not positive, but she thinks it might be the one she and Sam saw leave Jody’s neighborhood; Sam had said it looked like it might have been Ben driving.

“Hey, pull over at the coffee shop,” Claire instructs and Alex raises an eyebrow but swings the car into a parking spot without a word. “I think that’s Ben’s truck,” Claire explains as she grabs her stuff and gets out of the car.

The coffee shop is kind of busy—there are only a couple empty chairs—and Claire realizes belatedly that she has no idea what Ben looks like. She scans the crowd hoping for some clue.

“So who is this Ben kid anyway?” Alex asks from behind her.

“Kid of one of Dean’s ex’s. I guess Dean asked Cas to wipe his memory so he wouldn’t remember all the bad shit that happened to him but he got his memories back somehow and went looking for Dean.”

“Like I said: fucked up lives.”

“Yeah.”

“Whatever. I’m getting a mocha. Want anything? I ain’t buying though, sorry.” Alex doesn’t look all that sorry, but Claire doesn’t blame her. She tells the other girl to get her a mocha as well and digs out a five from her wallet. Alex gets in line and Claire continues her search of the café.

Two tallish guys get up from their table close to the back, revealing a solitary figure sitting at the corner table. Claire gives the teen a cursory look and is about to move on when he gets up and tosses his cup into the trash. He has dark brown hair and eyes and doesn’t look familiar sitting down, but something about the way he walks and moves is so _Dean_ that Claire knows immediately that this must be Ben. She catches Alex’s eye and jerks her head over at the boy. Alex just shrugs a shoulder in acknowledgement.

The boy goes back to his table and starts putting his coat back on; Claire weaves her way through the tables over to him and he looks up, surprised. He’s tall, but looking at his face, she guesses he’s a year or two younger than her.

“Hey, this is going to sound weird,” she begins. “But are you Ben?”

His eyes narrow. “…yeah…?”

“I’m Claire. I know Dean.”

If there had been any doubt in her mind that this was someone connected to Dean, the kid’s next response would have eliminated it.

“Awesome,” Ben grumbles, running his hand through his hair. “Fan-fucking-tastic.”


	9. Justifications

“So what, are we _Supernatural: The Next Generation?_ ” Ben snarks after introductions have been made and autobiographies have been shared. Claire looks horrified, Alex looks confused.

“Oh God,” the blonde girl says. “Don’t tell me you’ve read the series.”

“No, just came across the one with me in it. It’s how I got my memories back.”

“What books?” Alex asks, taking a sip from her coffee.

“Nothing. We are _so_ not talking about them if what I’ve heard about them is true. And Ben, for your own mental health, do not do not do not read them.”

“Shit, I know. The one about me talks about _my mom and Dean._ ” Ben is somewhat comforted by the fact that his own disgust is mirrored in Claire’s expression. Ben would be perfectly happy never hearing the words “bendy” and “weekend” in the same sentence ever again. Even though just reading the book summary had triggered his memory recall, he’d gone back after and read through the book just to be sure—a decision he immensely regrets.

“Wait, there are books about you guys? How? What the hell?” Alex’s eyes grow wide. “Don’t fucking tell me there’s one with me in it.”

Claire shakes her head. “I doubt it. I think they only cover up to about 2010. They were written by an actual _prophet_ because of the Apocalypse, which Dean, Cas, and Sam stopped, and after that’s when Dean showed up at your place,” she explains, directing the last part to Ben.

Well that answers that question, sorta. Ben had been wondering why and how these books existed. _But a prophet? The Apocalypse?_ Suddenly Ben is grateful for how much Dean kept from him and, most likely, his mom.

Claire twists her coffee cup on the table and regards Ben with intense blue eyes. He wonders at how the older girl can seem so casual about all of this, especially considering that she seems to have gone through just as much, if not more, as he has (she’d breezed through her own history pretty quickly and Ben suspects there’s a lot more to her story), and she didn’t even get to live in LaLaLand blissful ignorance for most of that time.

“So you live with Dean?” he questions, even though Claire has already explained how she showed up at the…bunker?...where Dean, Sam, and apparently a fallen angel named Cas live. And apparently, according to Claire, this Cas or whatever is the one who Mr. Cleaned his and his mom’s brain, per Dean’s request. Ben vaguely remembers a dark-haired figure in a trenchcoat from the hospital after the demon kidnapping/car accident, but that’s it.

“Yep. Have for almost a year now.”

Ben’s jaw clenches and he remembers the last real conversation with Dean, when he’d called Dean because of his mom’s date with Matt.

_“Just ‘cause you love someone doesn’t mean you should stick around and screw up their life. I can’t be here,” Dean had said._

_“You say family’s so important, but…but what do you call people who…who care for you, who love you even when you’re a dick? You know you’re walking out on your family, right?”_

It hadn’t mattered what Ben had argued: Dean had still left. _Guess Mom and I weren’t good enough, but sure, upgrade with Claire. Why not._ He stares out the window, his eyes focused on the cars parked by the shop but not really seeing any of them. Alex’s phone rings and she gets up from the table to answer.

“Hey,” Claire says. “Ben?”

He doesn’t respond.

“Hey, if it makes you feel any better—and I get it, it probably won’t—Dean didn’t want to take me in for a long time because he was scared he’d make all the same mistakes he did with you. He didn’t want to put anyone through that again.”

“But he still did, though. He stuck around and made _you_ family.”

“Dude, if you think it’s been easy living with the Winchesters and making them family, you are sadly mistaken.” Claire slumps back in her chair. “Look, I don’t know all of what happened with you and your mom and Dean, but I know that Dean’s the kind of guy who only did what he did because he thought it was the right thing. Was it shitty? Yeah, I’m not going to defend it and you have every right to be pissed. I know, I’ve been there; different details, but..." She shrugs. "Anyway, he honestly thought he was helping. I think you should talk to him again.”

Ben looks back at Claire, studying her. “How do you deal with it all?”

“Don’t have much else choice in the matter,” Claire smirks sadly as Alex rejoins them at the table. “I’ve been trying to be normal, you know? Go to college, live in one place for more than a few weeks or months at a time. Doesn’t change the fact that I have an anti-possession tattoo and I come home to a bunker filled with more magical and weird crap than Hogwarts. Some days are easier than others, and some suck, but that’s just how it is.”

He considers this, and once again Ben is impressed with Claire’s resolve. Maybe she’s right. Maybe he should give Dean another chance.

“You have Dean’s number?” he asks. Alex gives a grimace but Claire just nods, digs out a phone, and dials a number.

 _“Cas? Or is this still Claire?”_ he hears Dean’s gruff voice through the cheap speaker.

“Claire. Hey so I’m at…” Claire looks at the logo on her coffee cup, “…The Daily Grind. It’s a coffee shop on Main Street. Ben’s here, he wants to talk.”

There’s a pause on the other end and Ben feels his stomach sink.

_“You’re with him? He ok? Don’t let him leave, I’ll be there in a few.”_

“He’s fine, Dean. See you in a bit.”

“So we heading out soon?” Alex looks bored or anxious; Ben can't get a read on this girl. “I’ll drop you back at Jody’s—I’m meeting people in an hour.”

“Yeah, soon as Dean gets here. That ok, Ben?”

Ben nods and the next ten minutes pass in stilted small talk. Finally, the Impala roars into the parking lot and Dean stalks into the shop, freezing slightly when he sees Ben, Claire, and Alex all together at the table. Alex is already up and ready to go, but Claire pauses to give Ben a reassuring smile. She gives Dean a pat on the shoulder as she follows Alex out of the shop, which he barely seems to notice.

“Hey,” Ben offers awkwardly.

“Can I…?” Dean asks, gesturing to the chair across from Ben. Ben shrugs and Dean sits. They look at each other, neither sure where to begin. Dean rubs the back of his neck uncomfortably and looks down at his shoes. “Look, I know that you’re pissed and—”

“I get why you did it,” Ben blurts, cutting Dean off. “I’m not happy about it and I still think it was a douchey move…but…I get it.”

Dean jerks his head up in surprise. “You…do?”

“Yeah. Just answer me one thing,” Ben says, even though he has far more than one question for Dean. “The night that you pushed me. What really happened?”

He knows that this was really the beginning of the end for Dean and his mom. At the time, he’d thought it was something he did that made Dean shove him, something he did that drove Dean way. But he’d been just a kid then, and now, after talking with Claire and thinking about everything he’s learned and remembered in the past few days and weeks, he’s not so sure.

The guilt and shame on Dean’s face is unbearable to watch. He breathes out heavily, then looks around to make sure no one is listening. “I, uh…I got turned. Into a vampire. I didn’t feed on anyone, so they could reverse it. But I came back…I dunno…because I wanted to see you and your mom once more before becoming this monster, but when I got there I realized just how bad of a fucking plan that was. I pushed you because I didn’t want to hurt you because I almost lost control.”

“I thought it was something I did,” Ben admits, although his mind is reeling about the vampire part.

“No, man, no,” Dean shakes his head, his eyes closing. “Christ. That was when I knew I was fucking up your life and your mom’s life. I couldn’t do that to you.” A thought obviously occurs to Dean and his expression turns to one of horror. “Shit…does your mom remember anything?”

“No, at least, I don’t think so.”

“Are you going to tell her?”

Ben considers. “I don’t know. She’s happy, you know? But, she deserves the truth, too, doesn’t she?”

Dean smiles bitterly. “Not an easy decision, is it?” He runs a hand over his face. “So Lisa’s happy?”

“Yeah. She and Matt got married two years ago. But…” Ben pauses, unsure how to say the next part. “I thought…when I got my memories back…that Matt died. Did the angel bring him back?”

“Sounds like something Cas would do,” Dean nods. “So she married the doctor, huh? Good for her.”

Weirdly, despite everything else going on in this conversation and reunion, Ben suddenly realizes that Dean might be hurt to hear his ex is now married. “Sorry,” he apologizes with a wince.

“No, it’s ok. I’m happy for her, really am. Glad she’s moved on.”

Ben studies Dean; he really does seem to be ok with finding out his mom has someone else in her life. “How about you?” he asks, partly out of politeness and partly out of curiosity.

Dean looks uncomfortable. “Uh. Yeah. Claire didn’t tell you? I’m…with Cas, now that he’s human and all.”

“Oh,” Ben says trying to keep the shock out of his voice. “No…she said she was living with you guys but she didn’t mention…that.”

“Figures,” Dean says with an exasperated eye roll.

Desperately, Ben tries to formulate his next question in the least offensive manner possible. He doesn’t really care if Dean’s gay, but the guy was with his mom for a year. _Was it all a lie?_ “So…was Mom just…I dunno…I mean…did you…love her?” It’s obvious from the look on Dean's face that this isn’t something he likes talking about and Ben doesn’t blame him. “Never mind. You don’t have to tell me.”

“No, it’s cool,” Dean sighs. “But, um…that’s kinda two different questions. Yeah, I loved your mom in a way, but not....like that. I think we both loved the idea of it all more than each other. But I did care for her a lot. I really did. We really wanted to make things work. They just...didn't. And that's my fault. And, uh…she wasn’t just my gay cover or whatever. I like women, too.” Dean looks out the window for a moment. “Sorry. That’s probably more than you wanted to know.”

Ben gives a wan half-smile. “I’m the one who asked. So you’re bi?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Dean grimaces. “Don’t really go for labels, you know?”

“Sorry,” Ben says, but Dean just shrugs.

Dean leans back in his chair, but his eyes flicker over Ben as though he’s a puzzle he’s trying to work out or like there’s more that Dean wants to say but it’s locked in tight.

“Dean?” Ben asks quietly, not sure he wants to know the answer to his next question. “Are you…my father?”

Dean’s jaw works like he’s grinding his teeth. “I don’t know, Ben. Your mom always said I wasn’t when I asked, but…” he pauses for a moment. “Yeah, I think I might be.”

“Why would Mom lie if you are?”

Dean snorts with a bitter laugh. “Because I was—and am—totally fucked up. You and her were doing fine without me, and if I am your dad, I don’t think she wanted to dump this responsibility on this guy who was probably only in town for a fling, or get your hopes up only to have me leave. And when we were together, well…I was too fucking screwed up to be Father of the Year.”

“That’s not true, Dean. We were family.”

“Yeah, but, I told you, I don’t fit in that life. You and your mom deserved—deserve—better.”

Ben’s eyes prick with angry tears. “We were _family_. I don’t care what you say.”

“I know,” Dean admits miserably. “I’m sorry.”

Ben suspects Dean has never said the word "sorry" so much in his life; he looks more and more wrecked every time he utters it. They fall into an uncomfortable silence, each of them looking anywhere but at each other.

“I fixed up my truck from what I learned from you.” Ben’s not sure what makes him say it; the thought just pops into his mind and out of his mouth.

“Really?” Dean asks, a note of cautious pride in his voice.

“Yeah. You…uh…you want to check her out?”

Dean smiles, and Ben is grateful; he figures talking engines will be far easier than all of this. They head outside into the cold winter air and Ben pops the hood of the truck. Dean gives it a thorough once over, admiring Ben’s work and giving pointers here and there. Talking shop eases the tension, and after a while, Ben feels like he’s ten years old again and he and Dean are back in the driveway of the house in Indiana.

It’s too cold for them to stay out there for long, and eventually Dean suggests they head back to Jody’s. Ben stamps his feet to warm his toes and agrees.

Before they get into their respective vehicles, they stand in the parking lot, regarding each other for a moment. Dean clears his throat. “So, uh, where do we go from here? I mean, you have your memories back, but…”

Ben crosses his arms, only partly for the warmth. “I think I’m just gonna head back to Michigan tomorrow. I don’t know what I’m going to do about Mom.”

Dean nods dejectedly. “Yeah, sure. But…you know you can call me, right? ‘Bout anything?”

“Yeah. I just…I dunno. It’s like I said: I’m still pissed at you for taking my memories, but I get why you did. I have a life back home, you know? I don’t want to live in your world. I heard what Claire’s been through. I don’t want that.”

“Right,” Dean mutters gruffly.

“I’m not saying I never want to talk to you again, Dean,” Ben adds quickly, and Dean’s eyes widen in surprise and gratitude. “I think you’re right: I think you are my dad. I just don’t want to be a hunter or live like that.”

“Good. This isn’t the kind of life anyone should want. I’m not the kind of person anyone should want to be like."

"That's not true," Ben says, and suddenly he's eight years old again, getting a thumbs up from Dean after finally standing up for himself to get his game back from those bullies. He thought Dean was the coolest, even if his mom had been pissed that'd he been fighting.

"Yeah, well..." the hunter huffs and shakes his head in disbelief. "Anyway, you and your mom and Matt should live your lives far away from all this shit.”

“We will.”

Dean scuffs a boot. “C’mon,” he grumbles. “It’s fucking freezing out here.”

Before Dean can move away to his car, Ben steps forward and gives him a hug. Dean tenses for a second, then returns it. “I’m so fucking sorry, Ben.”

“Yeah, I know, Dean. It’s ok.”

When they part, they both have tears in their eyes, which they manfully blink away, and they get into their cars to head back to the sheriff’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, I was inspired by the Angel episode, so I thought it was fitting to put Dean and Ben in a café, too. So credit to the Whedon-crew as well as the SPN-crew for this fic. :)


	10. Epilogue: Spring 2016

“You sure this is the right place?” Dean asks as he pulls into the parking lot.

Cas sighs. “Yes, you know it is: you checked the address yourself. Or have you, Dean Winchester, King of the Roads, suddenly become incapable of reading a map?”

“Shut up,” Dean grumbles, but the corner of his mouth twitches up.

He parks Baby close to the exit for the road, but doesn’t get out of the car right away. Absently, he reaches for the feather pendant beneath his shirt and rubs it with his thumb, something he realizes he has started to do whenever he is agitated. The familiar shape of the metal is comforting, but not as comforting as the hands of the man sitting in the passenger seat beside him, and so he takes Cas’ hand before Cas can get out of the car.

“Hey, thanks for coming with me. You didn’t have to do this.”

“Of course, Dean. Although I’m afraid I won’t be very good company: you’ll have to explain the game to me.”

“No problem, man. It’s pretty simple,” Dean assures him. He leans over and gives Cas a swift peck on the lips before his angel climbs out. Dean reaches over and digs out a pair of sunglasses from the glove compartment, then follows Cas.

The bleachers are only half-full, but Dean and Cas opt for a spot on the hill looking down at the baseball diamond from behind left field, away from most of the other parents and families. From what Dean has gathered from a few phone calls and texts, Ben has decided to let Lisa find out about the fake memories on her own time—if she does at all; he doesn’t want to push her one way or another—and Dean has no desire to accidentally risk triggering her at her kid’s game if she sees him. Plus, pulling up a patch of grass on the hill is pretty comfortable, and he feels far less awkward leaning in against Cas ( _ok, cuddling, fuck you very much_ ) when he’s not in a crowd.

Even though he knows Cas has already spotted Ben warming up with his team, Dean still points him out with a proud smile, one that Cas echoes. A fly ball sends Ben running to the fence; he catches the ball and whips it back infield in a seamless motion, then turns and gives a small wave and smile to Dean and Cas, which they of course return.

Cas wraps an arm around Dean’s shoulders while Dean uses his own to point out bases and explain hits and outs. It’s been years since Dean has watched Ben play, and even though they haven’t seen each other since Sioux Falls back in December, this just feels _right._ He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t saved the voicemail Ben had left a few weeks ago asking him to come watch a game.

Ben’s team ends up losing by a run, but Dean has a huge grin on his face when Ben comes up to the fence where Dean and Cas are now standing to thank them for coming, and they recap the awesome hit he’d made in the third inning. They don’t get to talk for long since someone, like Lisa, is sure to question why Ben’s spending time with two random guys at the game. Dean claps Ben on the shoulder, then sends him back to his team, the smile still lighting up his face.

As they head back to the Impala, the hunter entwines his fingers in his angel’s. Kansas to Michigan is a long drive for a baseball game, but Dean wouldn't have missed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and feedback always appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feedback is always appreciated!


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